


downhill [FINISHED]

by goddamnfaith



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Micah is a dick, Younger Arthur, arthur writes letters to dutch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2020-05-13 20:36:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 13,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddamnfaith/pseuds/goddamnfaith
Summary: Dutch is gone."It has been painful, in many ways."





	1. 6 January

_January 6_

 

 

Dutch,

 

I bet you don’t remember but it’s been a year since you left us. Me.

A whole year.

365 days.

A lot of hours.

A shit ton of minutes. I could count them but I don’t even feel like it.

That’s right. It’s been a year since you didn’t come back and Hosea spent days trying to track you down.

On that night, we were all up by the fire, praying that nothing bad had happened to you. This was, of course, before Molly found out that you took all your clothes and a lot of our money.

I still don’t get why you did it. 

On that night, Javier didn’t sing. Karen drank more than usual. John hugged Abigail (who is now pregnant ~~, not that you care~~ ). Susan tried to hide it, but I’m pretty sure she shed a tear.

On that night, I cried myself to sleep. The others were in denial but I knew you weren’t coming back. I had a feeling you had left me for good. That was weird mostly because, until that night, I thought feelings and that foreboding stuff weren’t real at all. I only read about those in the books you let me borrow. I still keep some of them by my bed. I’m not sure why. But in that night the feeling was so real that I felt the urge to go to the rest of the gang and tell them it wasn’t worth waiting. That you weren’t coming back.

I didn’t do it.

I’m not writing to you today because it’s been a year though. I need you to know about what’s been happening. ~~I want to know if you still care at all.~~ I need to talk about it.

If I could talk with Hosea, I probably wouldn’t be writing this. I’m not even sure I will send this letter. I mean letters because I have another feeling (I’m becoming an expert) that I will write you a lot. I’m sorry.

On the other hand, maybe this won’t last. As Uncle said the other day, “you young people are just stupid and impulsive, it wasn’t like this back in my days”. I guess it was just a cry for attention or something. We like Uncle but you know how he is.

I don’t consider myself stupid, at least. Maybe a little impulsive. I’ve been doing things I can’t even explain. Hurting folk that didn’t deserve hurting and helping folk who don’t deserve helping.

When I asked Hosea if he thought I was reckless or impulsive, he put on that dramatic expression you left him with and told me “if you really are like that, you’re more like Dutch than I thought you were”.

Truthfully, Hosea has been turning into an incredibly old character and I bet that one day I will catch him sneaking into one of these books, the one that has a picture in the cover of Jocasta, mother of Oedipus. I’m afraid he would stay there, forever. He really has some kind of Greek face, especially when he puts on that dramatic expression I told you about. I don’t think he would mind spending his life on a book about misery and tragedy. To be honest, he would probably feel at home.

I didn’t mean to talk about Hosea this much since it’s not his fault I’m writing this to you. He’s just been… not Hosea. I miss him. Maybe as much as I miss you.

What I really wanted to tell you is that this past year has been bad. More like awful. I can tell you that not a second was worth living, except maybe for the time spent reading. You might think I’m overreacting but wait until I tell you about it and then you can make up your own judgment.

I’ll leave you alone now. I don’t want to make you bored or annoyed. I’m not sure if I feel better after writing this to you.

Tonight I’ll check if the insomnia gets worse or if the nightmares are less scary. Micah is passed out drunk near Bill and Uncle so I guess he won’t be here tonight? I hope.

X

Arthur ~~(your son)~~


	2. 14 January

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> coherence who?

_January 14_

I wasn’t really going to write you again. It just doesn’t make much sense for someone, even for a teenager, to write letters to people who don’t care about them and officially live in “God knows where (Hosea’s words, not mine).

I basically promised myself I wouldn’t do it again but bad things have happened, worse than usual. I can’t do much about it except writing to you. It’s the only privacy I have left but I’ve still been hiding these papers under the improvised bed. It doesn’t make much sense.

I was thinking today and nothing in my life makes sense nowadays. Writing this is just one more incomprehensible thing to add to the pile.

As I’ve told you before, I have to tell you some things you have no idea about. I truly don’t believe you’ll do anything about it; this is just a way to get it off my chest. Believe me when I tell you that if I could speak with anyone else I wouldn’t be doing this. I’m not even sure I’ll send these.

Today’s Molly's birthday. Do you even remember her? She claims to be “the classiest lady” in the gang. ~~Most of that self-esteem was lost this year.~~ She’s been here for three years now. In the end, you two didn’t seem to get along. I wonder if that had any impact on your decision.

Molly has turned into a great friend. If it wasn’t for her I couldn’t deal with some of the days here. Hosea is jealous of her. I guess he thought me and him would be closer but we’ve been growing apart. It’s ridiculous he’s jealous, but he’s been having some crazy ideas lately. I’m not blaming you. He’s just so nervous and jumpy, it’s not like him.

That’s why I can’t tell him about certain things, he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He can’t handle anything these days.

I can’t tell Molly either. Don’t get me wrong, she is great and I love her. It’s just that she cries a lot. We’re all secretly surprised she ain’t dehydrated after all those tears. I’ve been told that depressions are like that: they make people cry more than usual. On the other hand, I also have many reasons to do that and I can’t! Not since that night. If I could cry I bet it would be a relief, you know, a way to get things out.

Molly can barely handle emotions, especially sadness or anger. She never talks with me about it. We never really talk about anything now that I think of it. We enjoy each other's company in silence. It’s a mutual relationship where no words are spoken. She smokes her cigarette and I read anything I can get my hands in. She stitches me up if a night with Micah gets too rough, but she doesn’t do anything about it. She doesn’t comment or ask me if I’m fine. She doesn’t want to be involved because it would mean doing something about it and Molly can’t be bothered. The only time she talks with me is when she’s wasted and I’m putting her in her bed. Frankly, it’s been happening way more often and she just ends up trashing you and cursing.

I don’t know who’s worse: Hosea or Molly. They can’t handle things when they need to…

Can you? I thought I knew you but you left. I know that you’re probably a completely different person than I pictured. I still think you might be stronger than them.

It’s not a compliment. You don’t deserve those. It’s just an observation.

I’m probably more like you than Hosea. Maybe I’m not like any of you. I know you two practically raised me, but sometimes I catch myself wishing my mother came back from the dead and just took me in. I’d have somewhere else to be. ~~I doubt I can stay here in this camp any longer.~~

I might have drifted off the subject of this letter. You know how I tend to avoid serious conversations. I’m really, really looking forward to letting this off my chest (irony? you'll never know) but Charles and Javier came back with some deer and rabbits and I’ve got to help Pearson skin them. I’m excited for this dinner! We haven’t had more than some bits of rabbit to eat lately. The winter has been hard and Hosea’s decision to move the camp to ~~Lake Isabella~~ the mountains wasn’t the smartest. There’s just snow everywhere. The animals, much like us, would rather stay in their den than go out.

I feel like I’ve given you way too much information. I'm not even sure I'll send these so called letters, but if I do, don’t look for us. Please. We’re getting back on our feet and things are different. Remember Micah? You took him in some months before you left. He’s not in charge but at the same time, he is. It’s a long story.

I have to go. The deer isn’t gonna skin itself.

*

Arthur


	3. 18 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it legal to write this bad?  
> yall gon have to put up with it tho it's my way of chilling after clinic hours 🤧 i just put on music and write stuff that probably doesn't make sense
> 
> eNjOy

_January 18_

 

I guess it’s official now. This has become a habit. I haven’t decided if I will send you these letters or not so I guess they’re not really letters. If they’re not called letters I’m screwed since I don’t have a name for them.

You know, I’ve always been interested in the name of things. I suppose everyone is like that when they’re children but I’m still like that (and I haven’t been a kid since I turned 16 and became older than Hosea).

Names intrigue me. Sometimes I stare at an animal and imagine it with a different name. Then the animal disappears in front of me and it changes, has a different look, a different smell, and a different size. It is reborn just because I gave it another name. And my little secret game is fun because while I’m doing it I’m traveling to the past or future and I’m changing the world as we know it.

As Hosea doesn’t want me working a lot these days, I’ve had a lot of free time. I don’t know why but some weeks ago I decided to read that Shakespeare play, Romeo and Juliet. The only part I liked was when Romeo gave a speech about the value of the names and says something like this: a rose would still have the same smell if it was called something else.

I thought about that for a long time. I didn’t particularly like the play because the story is just idiotic: a couple so dumb that they kill themselves instead of running away and being happy (the only logical outcome- the one you chose, right?). But that doesn’t matter now. I’ve come to realize I don’t agree with Romeo’s speech. Just think about it, if you took a rose and called it something like reeker there’s no way it would still smell good.

Sure, that’s a bad example but the one who names ‘something’ should know ‘that something’. That something has to choose its own name.  If it does, then the perfect name will come up. The only acceptable name in my eyes.

I don’t think a newborn should be named before we can actually see its personality, its likes or dislikes. Karen, for example, means pure. An unmarked, immaculate virgin. Well, our Karen has slept with half the camp and you know it. ~~Micah comes from Michael, that means humble and respectful.~~

You probably have no idea why I’m telling you about this. Honestly, neither do I. Until now, I’ve been digressing. Digressing is actually a great term ~~that comes from~~  but I won’t spend any more time telling you why.

Their names are Micah, Cleet and Joe.

I like to think you remember Micah at least. On my mind, I imagine you surprised when I tell you they’ve been making my life a living hell.

Cleet and Joe joined some weeks after you left. They are quiet unless they’re drunk. They don’t have any intelligence, soul, feelings or own will. They do everything Micah tells them to do without questioning it first. It’s not official but they rule the camp. Hosea gave up a lot of time ago and everyone is walking away. We share a camp and that’s it. The gang was split into groups and no one remembered me. You were all I had, Dutch. I couldn’t join one of those groups even if I wanted to. There are loners like Susan and Hosea but they don’t even fight them anymore. I was easy prey once left behind. I know you’re probably thinking about John and how we were like brothers. As I’ve said before, Abigail’s pregnant. I guess that’s more important than me. I don’t blame him. He paired up with Abigail, Sadie, Uncle and Charles and they’re really nice to me. It just doesn’t feel like family anymore.

I’ve been on my own and I don’t know yet why Micah picked me but maybe it’s just my luck.

Micah, Cleet and Joe have a thing in common. They all hate me. Hate is a sentiment that seems to dominate them all the time. They don’t have any breaks from it and they don’t give me a break. I guess they chose to hate me and one chooses a career.

They hate me with all of their hearts.

They hate me like I’ve never been hated before.

They hate me for all different reasons.

And most importantly, they love to hate me.

It’s like their passion, you know? Well, you probably don’t but I don’t blame you. To understand it you’d have to get through what I’ve been through these months.

I know you think I’m overreacting but I haven’t told you anything yet. I’m just not sure if it’s worth talking about it.

I don’t know if you’re aware, but the truth hurts way more than lying. I’ve lied to the others so many times now that I don’t know what’s real or what’s not and that’s why I can keep acting relatively normal. Lying doesn’t hurt as much as admitting it. On the other hand, maybe I don’t have anything to lie about. Maybe this is all common and the whole camp knows. Either way, I hope you listen.

One thing you were always proud of was my so-called “intelligence”. If I am that smart why haven’t I figured a way out of this mess? Why do I care so much about what happens? You’ve always told me that sex is natural and not meant to feel bad. You even tried to say it happened when two people loved each other but you brought women I’d never seen before, and would never see after it, to your tent. John joked about it, calling it “one night stands”. I realized that love isn’t that important for sex to happen but Dutch, I hate Micah. You were always grinning and happy after while I try not to cry or throw up in front of him.

No, Dutch, intelligence isn’t everything. It’s not what I need right now. I would trade most of it for some pounds of strength and resistance.

I’ll stop here today. It was weird but it also felt good letting some things off my chest. I know you will hate what you’ll read but I don’t want to stop now.

Today I feel like I could hug you if you came back. Hug you really tight so you couldn’t let go. I’d bury my face on your chest and it would be okay: your hugs always felt like home. But I’d only do it so I could stop crying now and I’m not sure if that’s a good enough reason to hug you.

*

Arthur


	4. 20 January

_January 20_

Today I read what I wrote to you last time. You once told me that if you write about your pain you’ll be able to find what’s really hurting you. I find that confusing and I don’t think it’s necessarily true but I’ve also been feeling better. I know this because when I was reading the last ‘letter’ I felt way lighter than I felt when I was writing it. It was like some weight actually got off my chest. I’m not sure I can explain it but it’s enough to keep me motivated to write you! Any relief is welcome.

You know, Dutch, it would be perfect if someone could create some sort of medicine for the pain. But not the physical kind of pain. Like a potion to cure this pain, we feel inside but doesn’t have any impact on our physical state. If there is medicine to cure the pain you have when you get shot at, there should also be some sort of medicine to cure the pain from within.

Just after you left, Hosea said that it’s good to feel things. I’m not sure where I stand on that since there are days I wouldn’t mind losing some of my ‘sensibility’.

There are days where the worse thing that could happen is to feel.

Remember when I started to write on that journal Hosea got me? You got your hands in it once and read all my texts and saw all my drawings. You then said I had a “rare sensibility” and that “not everyone is gifted in that way”. You made it sound like it was something special. When you talked about it at the campfire, everyone agreed. Charles even joked that I should be an artist. At the time, I thought that having a “rare sensibility” was a good thing.

I was wrong.

It hurt when you left but what I was mostly feeling was loneliness. I was alone. Completely alone. I wrote about it on that damn journal. Hosea eventually read it. I’m pretty sure he was worried about me and that’s why he did it, but I remember he told me that he “really liked the way I described that feeling”.

When you get through certain situations, you talk and write about it in such a way that people think you’re gifted. The truth is you know how it feels to survive it so you don’t have to imagine how it must feel. It’s not a gift at all, it’s more like a curse. I didn’t tell Hosea about this. I took my journal out of his hands and ran.

I had been feeling that way some weeks before you left. You stopped being around the gang and you kept to yourself in your tent. I felt this huge loneliness because we were never all together. It was like two different worlds.

You read.

The camp sang around the fire.

I pretended I was reading or singing.

I pretended that I could be with you all at the same time.

I pretended I wasn’t alone, but I was. And I knew I was so I pretended.

Maybe it’s none of my business that you made your decision to leave the gang. Maybe you’re entitled to it. I just don’t understand how you can leave a family you basically put together. Maybe you made the wrong choice to lead this gang, this family. But did you also made the wrong choice when you took me in?

Molly recently confided to me, after a bottle of whiskey, that you always told her how proud you were of me. I thought it was bullshit but I realized that Molly might be a drunk, but she’s not a liar. There are certain truths she refuses to acknowledge but that doesn’t mean she has the habit of lying.

But maybe you weren’t proud of ME. You were proud of how YOU raised me.

I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m talking about this today, I guess it stills hurts me. It hurts everyone here.

Some people like Javier, Sadie and John have turned their pain into anger.

Some like Karen and Molly drank away their feelings.

Hosea ignores them and focuses on reading.

Mary Beth and Kieran left.

I write about it.

You leaving affected this whole group. No, you didn’t just hurt their feelings and broke their trust. You also broke this gang apart. People loved you. Feared you. Some even were jealous of the power you held.

I think jealously is worse than fear but I really don’t know much about jealously.

About fear…Well, I know a lot. I’m a professional on that matter.

I’m starting to feel sick. I guess this cold isn’t good for anyone. I’ll go lie down for a little.

*

Arthur


	5. 27 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wsnna get to the arthur/dutch stuff but its so far awayy

_January 27_

Last night I woke up with another nightmare and I couldn’t fall back asleep so I decided I’ll tell you about him today, even if it makes me sick or gives me a headache.

Molly taught me a sort of breathing exercise to calm people down. I just did it but I’ve had no relief so far. But I’m not going to change my mind. If I throw up, that’s fine. It has happened before.

On one of the books you left me ~~(or forgot about them)~~  it mentions that the first step to stop being afraid is to stand up to whatever makes you feel that way. It looks logical to me but it also looks really hard.

He joined our gang two years ago. He was previously running with a bigger gang but the Pinkertons killed them all and he was the only one left alive. Oh Dutch, that was a big red flag right there. He was clearly a rat and you welcomed him with open arms. It’s Micah I’m talking about, just in case you don’t remember or care.

Even when you were here, he’d always pick on me. It didn’t help that you always took his side. Micah would constantly push me around and antagonize me and you turned your head. You probably had something more important to do right?

One time, ~~before you started acting like we meant nothing you~~ , you, me and Hosea were sitting by the fire. It was pretty late and I don’t recall why we were up. I know I felt happy. Maybe it was the last time I felt that way.

Anyways, Micah came near the log I was sitting on and he was wasted. Whiskey-bottle-in-hand wasted. He greeted you and Hosea and then just stared at me.

When he spoke, it was to tell me I was on his spot.

You two were quiet until you, Dutch, started laughing. I guess me and Hosea didn’t understand the joke.

I quickly, but reluctantly, got up. Micah grabbed my wrist as he sat down, pulling me into his lap, saying there was enough space for the two of us. He was chuckling and when his left hand moved along my thigh I bolted out of his lap and glanced at you and Hosea.

Hosea looked disgusted but you just continued to smoke your cigar like nothing had happened. After that, I excused myself and went to the tent I shared with John. How could you have not done anything? You even looked like you were enjoying it. I want to blame it on all the beers you had that night but something doesn’t feel right.

This past year Micah took it to the next level. It started two weeks after you left and it only got worse.

I’ve been staring at this page for too long, I want to continue writing but I don’t know if I can. You know that Micah has been fucking me. I don’t understand why I need to elaborate on that. 

I have to go, I think I might throw up.

I’ll write to you soon.

*

Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might have to stop posting this much since next week I’m back at uni/clinic hours. Not looking forward to it.


	6. EXTRA 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooo 300 word update. This isn't supposed to be the sequel to the last letter. I guess it's just something Arthur wrote in a moment oof.  
> Like a paper inside a journal.  
> ok ill stop now.

Dutch.

I’m ‘’not over it” again. It’s a back and forth thing. Sometimes I don’t care and sometimes I do. Do you understand the weight of that sentiment?

I wonder how do I actually say goodbye when my heart still belongs to you: I’ve been trying to understand that for a year. I beg myself to let it go, to let you go.

At the same time, I think about if you wonder if I’m still alive or not. Did I ever matter to you? Do you even care about what I’m doing or what I’m feeling in the slightest? Do you regret losing me? Words will never be enough to tell you all these things and I will never be strong enough to ask you anyways. Still, I like to dream. Especially since dreaming is the only thing I have left. All my other pleasures along with my dignity left with you.

I miss you, Dutch. I miss all the nights we used to spend together, talking for hours on end about anything and everything. I miss your sense of humor and our inside jokes that no one else would ever understand. I miss smiling to myself every time we left camp to go hunting together. I miss how you made me feel like my opinions were important. I miss how you made me feel like you cared and how you were always there to lend an ear when I needed it. I miss you, and in a really selfish way, I hope you miss me too.

I truly love you, but today I’m upset because I’m not important to you as you are to me. I couldn’t make you love me back, at least not enough to make you stay. I wish I knew what you needed me to do so you wouldn’t leave. But I’m too afraid to find out that the answer is nothing. Oh, Dutch I don’t know what I should have done.

But there’s one thing I know.

I need to let go soon.

It's killing me. You're killing me.

Micah twisted the knife, but you were the one who buried it on my chest.

Lastly, I wish you didn’t still have this grip on me. Because after all this, I still hope that you're happy and safe and surrounded by people who love and cherish you. I love you and I have no goddamn idea when I'll be able to stop doing that.

I will see you around,

Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've lost my pink marker so now I refuse to study for my pathology exam. just thought yall should know.


	7. 29 January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end notes!!
> 
> i bought a new pink marker and i crushed my pathology exam.

_January 29_

 

I didn’t read again what I wrote to you last time because each word hurt. Still, I think that talking a bit about Micah was a really important step for me. I hadn’t told anyone. I didn’t even think I could! I believe that this had an amazing outcome: that night I went to sleep a little less afraid of having nightmares. And I didn’t have one! Maybe this is the solution, to talk about things that bother us so they can’t surprise you in the middle of the night when we can’t do anything to keep them away.

Tonight I’ll talk about the other two. I want you to get an idea of how Micahs “slaves” are, the two who joined the camp right after you left.

One of them is Cleet and the other one is Joe. Along with Micah they’ve been messing up my life in ways you can’t imagine, NO ONE can.

Maybe you’re wondering about how three people can ruin someone's life if they don’t kill anyone. The truth is, you don’t need to be a killer to have this kind of power in your hands. There are many more ways you can make someone's life a living hell.

You’re probably not getting it, but I’ll explain.

When Molly joined the gang, she used to go to Blackwater to find some jobs (like Tilly and Karen did when we got to Valentine, remember?). She was really good at it. She got folks drunk and made them talk, a lot.

One time things didn’t go well for her. Of course, you didn’t know that, so you just thought she was late and waited for her near the horses.

You didn’t mind at first, but after half an hour the sun was coming down. You decided to look for her in vain. Instead, you found Hosea who was looking for you two.

After a while, you and Hosea finally visited the last building in town: the hotel.

The owner quickly gave away her room, maybe because he’d seen your hands around your belt gun or maybe because you were screaming. I was young but I remember you two were lovers already.

When you broke the door, you found Molly sitting in the corner. She was covered in blood and most of her clothing was torn. A naked man laid in front of her, his throat slit open, slowly covering the wood with thick blood.

She looked in your eyes and the only thing she said was “I want to go home”. So you helped her up, gave her your coat and took her to camp. Hosea stayed behind to burn the body.

None of you ever told anyone about it. I found out after tucking a very wasted Molly O’Shea to bed. I’ve asked Hosea if this was true and not just drunk nonsense but he just sighed.

Molly never went back to Blackwater or any village. She refused to do any kind of work. That’s what led to her reputation of being too good for chores.  
I understand her. It’s not that she didn’t want to work, it’s the fact that she couldn’t. No one ever talked about it again and it killed a part of her.

I know she woke up in the middle of the night feeling like she might throw up. I know she flinched at every touch and couldn’t lay with you for weeks. I know that every time she left her tent she felt like the whole world was a black hole** and she was falling through it all over again and forever because she never saw the end of it.

It ruined her life and he didn’t have to kill her, Dutch. Just like Micah and those two.

Going back to Cleet and Joe, what can I say that will give you an image of how they look like?

Joe is massive. Big muscles and long hair. He doesn’t talk a lot and he doesn’t need to. He’s scary just to look at. Just so you know, Bill is way smaller than him.

Cleet, on the other hand, is skinny and a bit shorter. If it’s not to harass the girls, he won’t talk at all.

As I’ve said before, they follow Micah around like a couple of lost puppies. I don’t think they even like him, because that’s basically impossible. Their relationship doesn’t resemble any kind of friendship at all, you know? It’s a matter of common interests. Nothing more. And you want to know what one of those interests is? Can you guess? No? I’ll tell you: torturing me.

You might ask yourself: why? What did I do to make them hate me so much? My answer is simple: I don’t know. I repeat, I don’t know. I can’t think of any reason but there HAS TO BE ONE! Which reason? I have no idea.

I’m ugly, definitely not pretty. I wear normal clothes. I never talked back to any of them. When I met them for the first time, I even let them get away with eating my part of the dinner. But that wasn’t enough for them. I don’t even want to think about what would be necessary to make them leave me alone…

I’ve got a headache now, but it’s worth it because I’m hoping I won’t have any other nightmare tonight. Micah is supposed to come back this evening from the robbery he’s been planning for months. I’ll pretend to be asleep but that didn’t stop him before.

While I wait for him to come back, I’ll read some of your (now my) books. Some days, reading them it’s the only way I can feel like you didn’t leave this world (only the one with me and Hosea on it).

*

Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** blackholes were discovered before 1899, but they weren’t called that. I couldn’t find much info about them before the 20th century so lets all ignore the fact arthur said blackhole thanks i dont feel like changing it


	8. 3 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you’re all having a gr8 week 🥰

_February 3_

A long time ago, I realized that there’s no justice in this world. But it doesn’t mean that I accept that reality. It keeps hurting more and more and I can’t take it any longer!

I didn’t write to you yesterday because I had to go with Hosea to the nearest town to get a book. It’s not that uncommon, right? I was always quite the bookworm.

But the book I’m looking for is “American Inferno” by Evelyn Miller. You might recognize it: it’s your favorite book. One of the few you left behind. That same book is now laying on the floor of my tent, completely torn.

 I know I shouldn’t have pissed Micah off. I know I shouldn’t leave any of your books on my bed. I know that whenever Micah comes around I need to hide every single thing I have that reminds me of you because you never know what he might do.

And Micah wasn’t even drunk, he was just picking on me. He entered my room out of nowhere and started climbing into my bed. I didn’t have time to put the book away so I just held it tight to my chest but he noticed. At first, he didn’t care. But when he started pulling my trousers down and whispering nonsense into my neck, it just felt wrong having your book so near to something like Micah. So I pushed him off.

Saying no to Micah is a death wish. He struggled to pin my arms above my head and that’s when the book fell. On its cover. Big golden letters spelling “American Inferno”.

He’s not dumb. He’s everything but dumb and he knew, at that moment, what that book meant to me. So he got up, picked the book and ripped the pages while staring right at me. So I laid there, half in shock and half in fear, feeling the tears running down my cheeks.

The worse of all was having to hear him say «Oh… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to. Whoa, it’s really ruined, right? How sad. That book meant a lot to you didn’t it?» while grinning at me.

Micah has some kind of mental disorder and he doesn’t know it. No one knows it, except for me. One day he will have a meltdown, I’m sure. No one lasts an entire lifetime like that, not even him. How was he standing there smiling, Dutch? That book meant nearly everything to me. I’ve read it more times than I can count. In a way, that book was the only thing I had left of you. I know I still have more books, but that one was your favorite. You carried it everywhere. And now it’s gone.

When he left, I had this urge to scream so bad that I bit my bottom lip until it bled (not that it did anything). When I left the tent, I tried so hard to stop crying. I can't show any kind of weakness in front of the gang.

That evening, I had to go to Hosea and make up a story about how I was reading outside camp and a deer startled me, so I dropped the book. All he could say was «You let it fall? It’s ruined? Do you know how much that cost? No? Say something!»

Hosea didn’t mention that it was YOUR book. Or that he bought it years ago for you. Now, for him, it was just an expensive book that some teenager wasn’t careful with.

«I’m sorry.» It was all I could say.

So I took my last few bucks and the next day I went with Hosea downtown. We didn’t find another copy and I didn’t get the privilege to pick out another book.

Tonight, I’ll read “America”, also by Evelyn Miller. But from now on I will make sure the book is tucked away before Micah comes. I can’t have him ruin another book, Dutch. For me, each book is like a boat and reading is the only good thing my life because it takes me away from everything.

*

Arthur


	9. 4 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any typos: it's past 2 am and i've been waking up at 6 :)) feel free to point them out so I can fix them! I’d really appreciate it!

_February 4_

 

I've been trying to figure out why I never seem to be able to tell Hosea about Micah. I figured it was worth the shot because it’s not that good having no one to talk to.

I’ve realized that Hosea is the frailest person I’ve ever met and I think that’s why I’ve been sparing him from this ‘situation’. But that’s not the only reason. No, it's not because I don't trust Hosea. I trust him and even with his (at least 1000) faults, Hosea would never betray me.

The reason has something to do with Mary.

You remember Mary Linton? Daughter of Mr. Gillis? You must do because over almost two years I went out every Monday, Wednesday and Friday with her.

Mary was my best friend until we turned 14 and Mr. Gillis got over her mothers' death and decided to move to another state.

The death of her mother started out being a mystery. No one talked about it until one day Mary opened up with me and admitted that her mother had killed herself in the kitchen with rat poison.

I thought it was awful and weird in a certain way but Mary explained to me that her mother was jealous of another woman Mr. Gillis was sleeping with, and she started feeling really sad until she stopped talking. She even had to take some medicine just to sleep! Finally, she killed herself, probably because she couldn’t handle what she was feeling.

I remember seeing her in such a bad shape: eyes locked with the ground, sickeningly pale with dark circles. At the time, I thought she had the flu or something. At the time, I was 12 and didn’t know sadness could kill.

Her mothers' death had a huge impact on me. Until that time, I didn’t know a parent could abandon its children.

After I learned what had really happened, I went home (can you call it that?) really afraid any of you remembered to do something so horrific. Back then, you and Hosea were talking less and less… And you never laughed anymore. It worried me that you had stopped laughing. Before all this, you and Hosea always looked like you were having fun. You told jokes at the fire, went out to do some work together and always came back with a funny story and sometimes if I was good, a new book for me.

The same night Mary told me about her mother, I had a really bad nightmare, probably the worse until then. I saw you disappear into the middle of the woods and there was no one that could make you come back because I couldn’t call out your name and Hosea wasn’t there. I perfectly remember I woke up crying. You heard it and went to check on me. I couldn’t tell you about the dream, so you tucked me in the sheets again, kissed my forehead and left. I wanted to get up and make you promise that you’d never die, that you’d never leave me or that you’d never vanish into the woods. I wanted all of that, but I never did it. I was never good at trying to tell you both things. After all, I could never tell you what happened to Mary's mother until now and Hosea still doesn’t know.

One Saturday in June, Mary came to the camp for the first time. She wanted to say goodbye. Mr. Gillis decided that he couldn’t live in that house anymore, so he decided to change his life.

I was sad for Mary, who had no idea how her life was going to be. I was even sadder to lose her since she was leaving.

I lost my best friend out of nowhere, just like I lost you.

 

When you left, I started thinking about Mary's mother… Hosea looked as bad as she used to. More than ever, I was afraid he wouldn’t hold on and I wanted to beg him not to leave me like you did. However, I didn’t tell him that. I was afraid he’d start crying and I wouldn’t know what to do with his tears.

I don’t want you to feel guilty, Dutch. That’s not the reason I’m telling you this, believe me.

I hope Hosea is stronger than Mrs. Gillis. I need him to be! Nevertheless, I can’t make him feel worse than he already is. I don’t think I have the right to pour on Hosea all of Micah’s ‘punishments’ and ‘rewards’.

I just want him to find someone who likes him like Bessie did and make him feel safe. But I don’t know if that’ll happen since he stopped trusting people, right after he stopped trusting himself.

 

What I’d really like is to be strong. To be tougher than I am. Or to have the courage to run away from here.

*

Arthur

 


	10. 7 February

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two really short chapters because im tired and i need to write the one about micah.  
> only the first setence matters tbh

_February 7_

Micah must be getting ready for something else. He’s been looking at me as if everything was normal… His vassals haven’t said a word either. I don’t know what’s coming but I’m sure it’s not going to be good. It never is!

This morning I spent some time with Abigail and John. She’s getting real close to giving birth and that makes John nervous, a lot. Charles and Uncle had to go to Valentine, for some reason, so I replaced them and helped John with his chores. We hunted for a while and it reminded me of the old times after you adopted him.

John was always like an older brother to me and I wish he still was. Today it felt different. He’s grown colder or maybe I was the one who did… Either way, we did have a good time. He just acted like a stranger.

We were always different and not just physically. I liked books or whatever you were into while John preferred hunting and doing any kind of job. He was also quite famous with the ladies until he met Abigal. She put some sense into him, I’ll tell you that. Our John quickly got replaced with a responsible, wiser John. He’s about to be a father now! Even though today he confessed to me that he was worried he wouldn’t be a good parent. But concern shows he cares, right?

Abigail's pregnancy is another thing that’s been making me happy (less miserable) these days. Isn’t it hard to believe that in the middle of all this confusion there’s going to be a baby? Don’t you get what it might mean? Because I’ve been secretly hoping it’ll bring the camp back together…

I think the last baby we had in camp was Susans, a long time ago. I know that before he caught the disease, I was always around him. I was there when he said his first word, when he took his first steps and unfortunately, I was there when he passed. I think Susan has made peace with it and I look up to her for that. I wish I had that kind of resilience in me.

I hope I get closer to Abigail before she’s due. I’ve always loved babies! Before all this, I thought I wanted to have kids: I thought I wanted to have sex but it isn’t pleasant at all! I don’t know how anyone can do it…. And I know it might come as a shock to you, Dutch. Me? A family man?

Well, you don’t have to worry. The Arthur who wanted those things is gone. Sometimes I see him again, but only in my dreams. He gives me a little joy, every time he visits me at night while I’m sleeping. He also gives me some hope, since that’s been lacking around here.

I will go take a bath now. My pants are still covered in blood from the hunting with John. At least it’s not my blood like the other days, right?

*

Arthur


	11. 8 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!! yall comments are REALLY sweet and i love you all
> 
> I’ve been so tired! I’m sorry this is just.... poorly written. Hopefully soon I’ll rewrite this though!

_February 8_

Micah finally did it. And I discovered something new: I don’t have a guardian angel. They forgot to send me one from Heaven when I was born.

 

Today I won’t tell you more, Dutch, I can’t.

*

Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> personal rant that has nothing to do w the plot: i've been bummed out. worse thing about being a med/vet student is that you have to accept that sometimes there's nothing else you can do and the pacient just dies. might take a while before i write the next chapter.


	12. 10 February

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i know that if i dont write something shitty rn, i will forget about this work so here yall go!

_February 10_

I was right when I said Micah was going to strike again.  
Molly is gone, Dutch. She’s dead.

Two days ago I went hunting with John and everything seemed quite all right apart from Micah and his buddies. When I said that they were up to something I didn’t think it would be this bad. I just thought Micah would probably take his time with me that night or that he would put something in my drink or food, again. I didn’t think that he would hurt someone else, not her, not any of them. But now Molly is dead and we have moved back South.

  
It was early, about 6 a.m. when the Pinkertons came. We all managed to get away alive but it got ugly after that. Molly was still wasted from last night and she started going on about how she was the rat. I still don’t know why she did it. I tried to stop her but Micah grabbed my wrist and pulled me so close to him that I could hear his heartbeat. Molly kept going and talking and lying and Susan got the gun. And Susan shot her.

  
Just as her body hit the ground, Micah started snickering and that’s when I knew. He was the rat. He got her killed. He led the bounty hunters into the camp we were all starting to call home. I just stood there, watching Molly get dragged out of sight and feeling his hand squeezing my thigh while he still chucked, so low that I was the only one who could hear it.

Now Pearson left and so did Tilly. I’m hoping they find Mary-Beth and Kieran and that they’ll all be safe because they deserve it. We’ve all been through too much lately.

I hope Molly found peace in the end and I hope she didn’t feel much pain. I know that I’ve been lying to myself but at least it takes the image of her burning body out of my brain.

I can’t talk about her any longer. I don’t know if it’s her death or my lack of sleep, but I haven’t been myself. I know that someday I will open this journal and stumble upon this letter and realize how poorly written it is. If I end up sending these letters, understand that I haven’t slept for two nights now and oh, I feel awful. ~~I miss her~~ My head is killing me and my whole body aches.

Don’t worry, I’ve grown used to it. Since Micah took me to that ‘hunting’ trip, it’s unusual the day I’m not tired or in pain. The morning after that trip, I was in so much pain I could barely walk outside to throw up! I haven’t slept more than a few hours after that day too.

Sleeping has been one of my main problems lately, as you can tell. I fall asleep quite easily, but I wake up three or four times per night. Sometimes he’s on top of me and sometimes I’m shaking and having trouble breathing. I can’t fall back asleep after that. I’ve tried everything! Lately, I’ve even tried praying, but I can’t always do it. I will get back to that later. That is if I don’t stop writing.

These are the news, Dutch. It’s not easy being me. Not at all. But I don’t have a choice.

Tonight, I’ll look up to the stars and try to pray for her. I’ve heard that when people talk with God, they find some sort of peace inside of them. I won’t lie, a little bit of peace would help a lot these days.

*

Arthur


	13. 15 February

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello angels!! I've been so so tired but my internship is finally done! I wish I could promise this meant more chapters (and I will try) but for now enjoy this relatively small chapter. Dutch is finally really close to appearing so let's focus on that!
> 
> IMPORTANT: I’ll be rewriting all chapters in the future since this was all written on sleep deprivation!! So most chapters now are kinda short and poorly written (not a suprise innit) because they’re basically my drafts! Enjoy!

_February 15_

 

Something truly unexpected happened since I last wrote you. After Molly… left, I thought I was going to be all alone. Not only because I spent a lot of time with her but also because everyone seems to hate her now while I’m still mourning. I figured they’d hate me as well (a bit more than they already do).

I couldn’t have been more wrong!

 Just as everyone recovered from the shock, they started coming up to me. Charles, Susan, Sadie, John, Abigail…

Even Hosea.

They asked how I was doing, if I needed help with anything and told me that I was _always_ welcome if I wanted to talk with them. 

Well, I was dumbfounded by this! It made me really happy and I felt like we could all become one again. Everything seemed quite normal for a while.

You can already guess who didn’t like all of this attention, right?

When I looked at Micah he seemed so pale I thought he was about to pass out, and he bit his lip so hard that it bled. But he didn’t say a word. So, of course, I realized that I wasn’t supposed to be thanking people for their kind words. Talking to the others was a HORRIBLE idea. I excused myself and left as quickly as I could, feeling my guts twist.

Because of my mistake, I knew something was going to happen to me soon. I didn’t want to imagine what but I knew it was going to be bad. I didn't eat the rest of the day.

 

Hosea has been awfully kind to me to this day. Even today, I was lying near the campfire, trying to get some sleep when Micah and the others came up and started calling for me. Hosea told him off, saying I was tired and that I needed to get some rest.

I thought he was going to get beaten right there but for some reason, Micah left. No words from him. Just left. That made me think Hosea was slowly becoming himself again, one remark at a time! That is until Cleet spit on him and he just wiped it off his face with his sleeve like it was something ordinary.

Hosea stayed with me until night, and that’s when Micah struck, creeping into my tent.

I handled it pretty well until he talked about Molly. How she would react if she could see me, whoring myself out a couple days after her death.

A couple minutes later and I ended up outside, throwing up and feeling sick. How can I defend myself from something like that? Tell me, Dutch! How? How come I was never taught how to protect myself from all this that has been done to me?

It’s because of these reasons and many others that I told you I don’t have a guardian angel. I’ve never had one or maybe he just gave up on me. With the life I’ve been having, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. So many unspeakable things happen to me, almost every single day. I can barely deal with it, imagine an angel!

I need more than a Tilia tea. I can’t sleep and it’s past 2 am.

I’m tired of crying alone.

It’s also really cold. It has been this way for a while now. I will fetch a blanket even though we’re near Blackwater and not the mountains. It’s supposed to be warmer! But I can’t stop shaking.

And I have a feeling the cold is here to stay.

 

*

Arthur


	14. 17 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only around 6 chapters for the work to end eheh
> 
> will fix typos in the morning!

_February 17_

 

It’s past 3 am now.

The day was terrible, and in a way, tiring. So bad that I feel like it won’t end.

It was midday and I was about to leave my tent when Micah came, this time alone. I was sketching a deer I had seen earlier in the journal. Its antlers were huge! He told me he was looking for his guns but stopped when he noticed what I was doing. He demanded to see the drawing and as he lifted up the book, the letters fell out in front him, nicely displayed on the floor.

My heart dropped. He picked one up and started reading it, even though I was begging him not to. I never beg.

When he looked at me, the look on his eyes was terrifying! They didn’t look like a man's eyes. They didn’t look human. They couldn’t have been human!

His face was pale. His upper lip trembled and I was sure that I was going to get killed, right there. I felt his hate for me growing more than I thought was possible. Only then I realized, in silence, that he was an enemy, my enemy. And I was alone with him and the crumpled up letter on his fist. That wasn’t going to end well.

It was so frightening that I wanted to run, as far away as possible before he caught me and shot me down. Then he snapped: “So, Arthur. What do you got to say for yourself after this?”

I didn’t want to say anything, nothing at all.

My head was throbbing with fear, something I never had known possible. But I had to speak. Get it over with. If it was going to happen, why delay it? Because I knew that it didn’t matter what I said. It wasn’t going to change anything if Micah already had a plan.

“I’m sorry.” My throat was so dry that it hurt to talk.

Micah stared right at me. His face was made of stone. ALL of him was made of stone. No reaction. None at all.

Then Pearson came in, out of nowhere. I was so relieved I had to grab the desk in order to stay up since my legs were shaking too much. We were late for lunch so he came to let us know. I don’t know what would have happened if Pearson didn’t came. I don’t even want to think about it.

Subsequently, I left and didn’t spare Micah another word.

I ran to the fire, grabbing a bowl and trying to eat something. I had no success. Got a couple spoons in but couldn't keep the food down.

Micah, Cleet and Joe went out. No one knows where and they didn’t come back, at least not yet.

As I “finished” eating I ran to Hosea's tent, waiting for him. I couldn’t be in this camp any longer. I had to leave before Micah got back. But Hosea wasn’t there. He wasn’t there so I sat, for hours, staring at nothing and thinking about all the ways Micah was going to make me pay.

I didn’t want to eat or hunt. I didn’t want to read or listen to Javier singing and I didn’t want to live.

I was so tense that all my body was aching. My stomach felt heavy.

A few hours passed before someone walked by the tent and spotted me inside. 

“What’s wrong, Arthur? You don’t want to go out today?”

I jumped from my seat and ran to Abigail, giving her a hug even though her stomach was getting in the way. I made an effort not to cry because if I did I would have to explain to her why. Either way, she quickly understood I wasn’t alright and told me she was grabbing me a coffee or some milk.

I didn’t want to eat or drink anything and that’s what I rushed to tell Abigail, thanking her.

I sat back on the bed and waited for Hosea as she left.

His tent looked bigger than ever.

The curtains wouldn’t let me breathe. So I decided that when I have my own room or a bigger tent that I don’t want curtains. Or rugs. Velvet sofas are off the hook too. As well as pictures of those who already left…

Hosea only got to camp around 8 o’clock. He said that he met a stranger on the way who needed him to get to the doctor urgently as he’d been shot. And I know how Hosea needs to feel like someone needs him. He found it weird I was on his tent and started his questioning. “Sit down”, I told him holding back the tears, “I need you to listen to me, Hosea”.

He quickly got nervous, panicked even before I raised my voice.

“Will you please listen to me?” I didn’t mean to scream. I was caught off guard, especially when I felt the tears streaming down my face.

He finally let me talk.

 

I told him I needed to go. I’d stay near camp but only he would have my exact location that he couldn’t tell anyone. I explained to him that I couldn’t stay here any longer or something bad was going to happen.

“That’s nonsense, Arthur! What sort of bad thing? You’re not leaving, you’re too young. We need you here.” Hosea was angry. “Leaving is not an option now. You’re not staying out there alone.”

“I need to go. I promise I’ll be back but I need to go now, Hosea, alright?” I was just crying harder and harder.

“No, no it’s not alright.” He got up and looked down at me, enraged.

I felt on the edge of desperation. Hosea had never reacted like this.

“If this is about safety we can try to track down Dutch and I can be with him for a few days.”

I don’t know what I was thinking. I was crying and in panic but don’t you worry. I’ve realized now that this was never an option.

Your name put an end to the conversation. Hosea turned hostile. “Oh, you want to go with Dutch? Then go! But I doubt he’s going to put up with you, I really doubt it.”

He never talks like that, even if furious. Something was off.

 

“What’s wrong, Hosea?” I whispered. I was afraid of the answer. I was especially terrified when he sat back down and buried his head on his hands. Now it was his turn to cry.

I became worried. I got up and knelt down by the sofa and begged him to tell me what had happened. I wish I hadn’t because next thing I know he’s saying he met you in Valentine today.

You were with a very pregnant lady, Annabelle. Hosea was leaving the gun store and you were leaving the doctor. Hosea didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to explain yourself, only said that you were going to be around here for a while since you were marrying her.

That’s just what Hosea told me. I have so many questions. Did you ask about me? Did you even think about me? Why did you leave? You’re clearly not back here because of us so you own us an explanation.

I started to get even sicker. Hosea seemed to calm down a little, before telling me to act surprised if I see Dutch. Act like I didn’t knew about Annabelle. That wasn’t going to be hard since we won’t be meeting. I’ve decided to never go back to Valentine.

It’s weird, Dutch, how I feel like I’m not talking to you anymore since now I’m sure I won’t be sending these letters.

If for some reason I was in the city and saw you, it wouldn’t be hard to look surprised with your ‘news’, you know why? Because to me, it is a surprise you want to start a family when you just left us.

For years, you didn’t have time for me and now you want a baby? Have you gone crazy?! Are you forgetting that babies require a lot more time than teenagers? Are you going to have time for him or her?

You probably didn’t think about any of this. Hosea was devastated with the news. I know he was still waiting for you to come back.

Even I was waiting, even though I knew you were gone for good. But now I have the proof.

I just wish I could believe you aren’t giving up on this baby too. I want to know when he/she is born. I want him or her to know who I am so when you leave them, they can count on me. Because that’s what you’re going to do, Dutch. I pity you for it but I pity myself more for missing you.

I’m not leaving camp now.

But I will learn how to fight back in another way since this one doesn’t seem to be working.

*

Arthur


	15. 22 February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello angels xx  
> i broke my right wrist (Tl,dr i bought a race horse and it turned out to be an awful decision) so it might take a while writing the next chapters! 
> 
> really sad because i felt like this story had potential and I ruined it ahah.

_February 22_

Continuing to write you is, in fact, absurd. But definitely not more absurd than what’s been happening with Micah lately.

It has been painful, in many different ways.

I’ve been spending all my time inside my tent. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I’m hoping the bruises will fade out a little so I can go hunting next week.

You left a poetry book and that's what's been keeping me sane these last days. Many of those poems talked about politics or philosophy. The one that caught my eye didn’t. It talked about the water. The sea, the wind and the islands.

I reflected on it and I’ve come to realize that I’m an island. A really tiny one with a palm tree right in the middle. The ones who sometimes appear in children’s books.

I live surrounded by a sea of people that don't know me. And I’d rather not know them.

At any time, the sea can drown this small island. A bigger wave can come and submerge it. Submerge _me_.

I’m an island away from all the other islands and I can’t leave where I am because I’m stuck to the bottom of the sea.

Even if I can take down that palm tree, I won’t be able to build a boat. Not even a raft.

Was I really born to be this island, Dutch?

 

Arthur


	16. 27 February

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's been a month wow. wrist still hurts and horse is still an asshole.
> 
> !!next chapter is going to be the last letter!!

_February 27_

Micah has been leaving the camp most nights these weeks. I haven’t got a clue on where he’s going, but it’s better this way. I’d rather not know.

This has changed his habits. He no longer wakes me up in the middle of the night and he sleeps during the day. It gives me time to actually rest without looking over my shoulder every couple of seconds.

This also means he’s not… spending as much time with me as before. So he’s rougher now, in the mornings.

Today though, I drew the line. I pushed him off. And I’m going to be paying for it in the future, I know. I know because no one, NO ONE says no to Micah Bell.

 

He grabbed me by the neck and then it started: the choking, something new.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t move.

It was like the wagon was still on top of me and you were some feet away, bleeding out, and I couldn’t do anything. The pressure of the vehicle was making me lightheaded, running out of breath and you kept bleeding and bleeding and I was stuck.

It was like that day all over again.

I know you can’t imagine my distress. NO ONE can.

But it was enough for me to scream and push Micah off, with strength I didn’t know I had. He just sat there, kneeling on my bed. He didn’t say a word while I excused myself and hurried out of the tent.

I needed to get a mirror to look at the damage. I unbuttoned the shirt. My throat was red and swollen, and it hurt.

My heart was beating faster than it should.

My hands were still cold and shaking.

I dressed myself again and sat on the log. I needed to cry, but I couldn’t.

So I closed my eyes and thought about Heaven. I tried to silently speak with God because Hosea once told me He listens better when it’s quiet. I’m not a believer Dutch, but I needed someone to hear.

I couldn’t tell him anything that made sense, but I'm still hoping He understood it.

I also couldn’t cry.

Then, a horrible idea came to me: If somehow Micah managed to kill me one of these days, no one would bat an eye. They already block out the noises and ignore the bruises. He would have to look for a new victim though, just in case he gets bored.

I understood, for the first time, that I need to find some way to fight back.

Meanwhile, I want to forget him. But how can I? That’s all I want. To forget. Although, if I forgot about him, what use would it be since HE won’t forget me?

*

Arthur

 


	17. EXTRA 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry ive been gone :( university has been uhh bad. Vet med school is a trap kids.  
> ill be a lot more active now but probably not on this fic! Still focusing on rdr2 I hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra before last chapter because oh boy I need to get ready
> 
> very simple to read and short! sorry

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wonder when did my survival instincts leave. Or maybe they never did. I don’t fight it anymore ( ~~ just take it like the whore I am ~~ ~~)~~. What does that mean, Dutch? I’ve asked God for answers and received nothing but more pain.

 

 

 

Perhaps it means I don’t care if I die or not anymore.  Perhaps it means it no longer matters what happens to me because my fight is over and I’ve lost. I am then a coward, who took the easy way out. Survival is not a viable option here.

 

 

 

Or maybe it means there’s still hope.  Maybe  I don’t fight it anymore because I thrive to survive and I know if I keep resisting it, it’s only going to make things worse.  Maybe this submission I’m showing is what’s keeping me alive: making me take it, take him without much fuss.

 

 

 

Or, as Micah says, deep down  I might enjoy it. I pretend not to because that’s easier than accepting I’m a whore for his cock.

 

 

 

But if I like it so much, why do  I feel sick to my stomach? This hate in my heart consumes me every time I glance at him. This hate, some pain, but mostly guilt. Guilt because I know that somehow I caused this. Somehow I made him do it.

 

 

 

You’ve also been haunting my thoughts.  I keep replaying this scene in my head where me, Hosea and you were running away from this little village on the north side of the county after a robbery had gone bad. 

 

 

 

We had been fleeing for days, non-stop, when you decided to stop and we dismounted. We set camp near this river, right by the border of Ambarino if I’m not mistaken, and for some hours everything was good. We fed the horses and caught a rabbit or two. Even slept for a couple hours.

 

 

 

In the morning, you said you had something you wanted me to see.

 

 

 

You lead me to this small abyss, that fell into the river.

 

 

 

I  was scared to fall.

 

 

 

 

 

So you pushed me.

 

 

 

 

At first, I only felt the cold, feeling my body quickly freezing. Then it hit me: I  really didn’t know how to swim.  I believe  I was even worse than Marston.

 

 

 

I started thrashing around, screaming and gulping down tons of water. I saw you and Hosea at the shore. Somehow while I was crying my lungs out you managed to get down the abyss. Hosea looked panicked, trying to get to me while you held him down.

 

 

 

“He’s learning,” You said. “He’s not going to drown.”

 

 

 

 

But I did.

 

 

 

I didn´t make it for long: the stream was too strong and my body soon gave up. Hosea had to drag me out of the damn river and make sure I was breathing.

 

 

 

I didn’t learn how to swim that day. Hosea had me practicing in a quiet lake sometime after.

 

 

 

But if you taught me how to swim now, I promise I’d learn and listen. I  just want you back.

 

 

I'll keep you on my thoughts,

 

Arthur


	18. 16 June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idk why God is mentioned so many times in this sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINAL LETTER :)) It was fun writing all of this! I'll be working on more Dutch/Arthur, I have some things written already! ill proof read this in the morning and add more notes
> 
> Important note: This is definitely out of character and stuff but oOOps. The stuff I'm working now is more accurate, worry not.

_June 16_

 

Dutch,

 

 I didn’t think I would write to you again, but the situation has changed and I have way too much spare time. So the urge to contact you came over me again (and this time I will make sure this letter gets to you).

 

Several things have happened after I last wrote you (I wrote you quite some letters, just so you know). There are so many things it’s going to be hard to talk about them all!

I’ll start with the beginning. I suppose I have the time for it.

 

Two weeks after my last letter, something so serious happened that it totally changed my life.

 

It was a cold night and Pearson made soup for dinner, which wasn’t something new but that day it was especially awful. I really don’t blame him. He used to be a good cook, I guess age is just getting to him.

At the end of the meal, John asked to see me in his tent, so I did. He had a paper in his hand and by his face, I knew something VERY wrong had happened.

When I got alone with him, he looked me down in disgust and said that what I had done made him “very shocked and bothered”. Those were his words.

I felt my legs start shaking, my hands and feet had suddenly gone cold. Something didn’t feel right with his tone.

Finally, he handed me the paper and asked me if I had any idea of what I had written. He didn’t want to turn it in to Hosea before he knew what I thought of my attitude.

I started to feel light-headed and nauseous. I could barely keep standing. I felt no courage to glance at the paper again. However, John, already annoyed, insisted that I looked at what was written there. I had no choice but to obey him.

I unfolded the paper and asked him if I could sit down, to which he responded “no”, so abruptly that it got me shaking in fear. I started reading the paper. “My dearest, John” it started.

In a second, I understood it all. Of course, Micah wouldn’t forget my small act of rebellion the other night so quickly. He stopped physically torturing me a few days prior to this day. I thought he was tired of me, at least that’s what I hoped for. But turns out he just wanted me to be completely hated by the entire camp. Take away my only source of support, even if minimal.

I tried to hold my tears back as I told Marston that I didn’t write that paper and if he talked with Hosea he would know I didn’t think of him that way. Yet John didn’t believe me.

He kept telling me to read the rest of it. I tried to explain that it was Micah but just after I opened my mouth he screamed. “Will you or will you not do whatever the fuck I told you to do?”

 John never screams. Not at me.

The tears then started falling without my permission. I decided it was better to read it as quick as possible so I could sit down since my strength was running out quickly.

 

The paper was, in fact, disgusting (which I already knew before reading it). It was written in capitalized letters that everyone could imitate if they wanted to. In the paper, the author said they were deeply attracted to Marston and that they would do everything – emphasis in everything- to satisfy them. It also mentioned that Abigail was nothing but the camps whore and that he deserved better than what she was giving him, especially after birth.

It was signed by “me”.

 

When I was done reading, something similar to anger took over and I had the guts to turn to Marston and ask if he didn’t see how stupid that sounded and how I would never say something like that.

He got pretty angry at that and screamed, again, to watch my tone and asked me if I had something I wanted to say to him before he talked with Hosea.

I looked back at the paper. Then back at Marston, who was still staring at me with a mixture of disgust and anger in his eyes. I decided it wasn’t worth explaining because he’d never listen, not at that moment.

I left. I turned my back on him, heard him ask me where I was going, but I ignored it. I needed to get away.

I wanted to leave so bad but I had to talk with Hosea before John got to him. After dinner, he likes to go near the river and just sit there, in silence. I guess that’s where I was headed to before it happened.

 

It was silent as I left camp. Most folk had gone to sleep already. Well, not all. I was going down the hill when I passed Cleet, Joe and, of course, Micah. I knew something terrible was about to happen.

 

As quick as possible, they threw me to the ground and dragged me to the middle of the woods.

I tried to scream but everything happened extremely fast.

 

Cleet tore off my clothes while Joe grabbed me and covered my mouth. I was left naked, with only my socks on.

 

Micah leaned into a tree, smiling at the scene in front of him. The only thing he said was “Maybe next time you won’t push me off”.

 

I tried to fight back, I begged them innumerous times to stop but they didn’t hear a word of it, especially Joe, who’s taller and weighs more than Micah and Cleet together.

 

It was quick and efficient on their part. They barely said any words, only grunted occasionally. In the end, they left me there, in the woods, and took off with my clothes.

 

After they were gone, it was so silent I could hear my own heartbeat. I couldn’t stand up.

 

I laid there, alone and lying on the ground. I laid there not moving a single muscle. Naked.

That couldn’t have happened. IT COULDN’T. For a couple of seconds, I believed that it was a nightmare and that I was going to wake up at any moment.

 

My heart, that had beating relentlessly, seemed to have stopped. I thought I wouldn’t be able to keep breathing and that my body was frozen. It hurt. Everything hurt. I let myself close my eyes and shake like never before: shaking because I was cold because I was scared. For the first time in my life, I REALLY thought I was going to die. There was no way out of a situation like that.

I forced myself to breathe more evenly, trying to make it. I realized then, that there is something inside me that still hasn’t lost hope.

The tears kept falling, all this time, but I only noticed them because they were the only warm thing in my body. Everything else was cold.

How can I possibly tell you my humiliation, Dutch? The cold both outside and inside of me? The discomfort and the mess between my legs? The panic and the fear?

 

Two hours passed before I heard something. I thought it was a deer, or God coming to get me, at least. I tried to get up with no success. I managed to sit there, shaking so much I could barely see.

It wasn’t a deer.

 

I locked eyes with Abigail right before I started crying harder.

Seeing the state I was in, she ran to me and asked me who did that savagery. I tried to tell her but I couldn’t. My chin was shaking more than the rest of my body. I still know she already knew who did it.

Giving up on making me talk, she quickly took her jacket off and put it on me. Then, she vigorously rubbed my arms to warm me up and hugged me (the best hug of my entire life until that day). She must have realized I was burning up in fever.

She helped me up and carried me until camp while whispering more to herself than to me, “don’t worry, I will take care of you” and “My god what it has come to! How can he do this”.

I don’t remember getting to camp but I remember Abigail staying by my side on the wagon while we were headed to the doctor. For that, I will forever be grateful to her. And for the jacket she let me borrow. And for the hug.

 

Once I got to the doctor, I knew someone was asking me questions but I couldn’t hear them. I think Abigail answered for me.

 

Inside my head, there was no space for whatever came from outside.

 

Abigail also got a hold of Hosea while I was being questioned. She told me he was coming as soon as he could.

When he got there, the doctor told him that I had a panic attack and a respiratory infection. He didn’t cry with that. Only when Sadie told him what had happened and how she had found me did he break down.

I was at the doctor's for 15 days and during those two weeks, I kept having panic attacks at night. The nurses passed by but I didn’t know how to ask for help because I kept shaking so bad it was difficult for me to talk. Once in a while, a more experienced (or more sensible) one would notice and keep me company by the bed, giving me water and helping me drink it. It can sound weird, but when you’re that bad even simple gestures become difficult.

When the morning light came in through the window, I would feel calmer because I knew that Hosea would come and visit me.

I can assure you those were the two strangest weeks of my life. But I felt safe because I knew Micah and the others couldn’t get me there. It gave me the sensation that my life had changed. EVERYTHING different, even Hosea!

In those days in the hospital, I knew that nothing was going to be as bad as it was before.

I don’t have to worry about anything… that’s what I keep telling myself every morning as I get up.

 

Hosea is acting completely different! He even makes an effort of smiling a couple of times a day! More than ever, he missed and needed you. But believe me when I said he did great by himself. Of course, he didn’t rest until he found Micah, who apparently left the camp as soon as he heard I had been found. I don’t know what he’s done, but I’m sure I will never see them again.

 

The doctor keeps insisting I need to talk about what happened. Maybe I do, but not with Hosea. And that’s what I told him. I don’t want to spend any more time thinking about Micah. The space he took in my life is already big enough. I still have a lot of scars, I still feel a lot of hurt and anger that I know it will only go away once I forgive them, to be able to… forget them.

I’m starting a new chapter in my life. I’m leaving the past behind and it can’t hurt me anymore unless I let it.

 

My birthday is next week- 17 years old. I’ve been thinking about this and it feels like I’m going to be 50 because I’ve been through way too much stuff for 16 years.

Hosea took me back to camp and it’s good to know I’ll spend my birthday with him. Every morning he makes me breakfast and every night he gives me a massage for the pain and aches I still have, months later. Sometimes we even ride up a hill and just stare at the sky and talk.

Now more than ever, staring at the sky is good for my soul.

 

I have a feeling God has a special plan for me because he didn’t let me die that night. Cold and alone. I know He took care of me through Abigail, Hosea and the doctor I immediately sympathized with because he had your exact eye color. I know I’m on the right path.

 

Today, I’m sure my greatest mistake was not asking for help.

Sometimes it looks so difficult!

Now I know that it could have avoided at least a few things that happened. If only I had told Hosea, who’s not as fragile as I thought.

 

That day still hurts me, but not as much as before. I know it will continue to hurt, for some time.

But, one day I will be able to say goodbye to this pain! I’m sure I will! In that day, I will write you another letter, way better than this one I promise.

For now, I’m trying to learn how to live without fear. Isn’t that amazing, Dutch? I just don’t know when I will be able to live without you.

 

Yours always,

 

Arthur Morgan

 

(PS: I liked to know that you’ve fathered a boy. I never told you, but I always wanted a brother. I hope you help him grow up stronger than me! Whatever you do, don’t abandon him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't have done it without all your comments! Extra kudos for DanielVanDerLinde and ohcassie for being the sweetest human beings ever! Thanks xx


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